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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242591">A Neighbourhood Divided</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee'>TeamGwenee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Community - Freeform, Crack, F/M, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:49:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The tradition began years ago, innocently intended to be a friendly Christmas decoration contest between neighbours.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Neighbourhood Divided</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You're a mean one, Kingslayer,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re a mean one</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You really are a crook.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You're as honest as a python.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As honourable as a snake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kingslayer, you're a foul oathbreaker,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kingslayer, with the blood stained white cape.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>For fuck sakes,” Jaime growled, storming over to his window and thrusting out his head. “Ned Stark, quit with your whining and get a life. You’ve got a wife and six children, take joy in them before you’re all claimed by the grave and get over your bloody Christmas display!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ned Stark’s gentle face blazed with the burn of frozen ice, that which was so cold that to rest your palm against its service was to lose a layer of skin upon removal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You knocked down my nativity, and do not deny it Lannister!” Ned called up. “It took me five days putting that up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>five days. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Our house was certain to win the Christmas decorating contest,  until you pulled into the wrong driveway ’by accident’. That weekend in Dorne was as good as ours. Now my nativity is a king short!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And so you decided to hang around under my window, singing songs dedicated to me personally?” Jaime mused, raising a suggestive eyebrow. “Should I tell dear Catelyn she may have cause for concern?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ned cursed, turning on his heels and stalking back to his house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brienne joined Jaime at the window, watching Ned retreat in disbelief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A s</span>
  <em>
    <span>ong?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she muttered. “Really? You already apologized, what else does he want?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants me to admit to some grand conspiracy to rob his family of the weekend to Dorne,” Jaime explained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Brienne asked, appalled. "How could he think such a thing? That's terrible!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I <em>know</em>,” Jaime said, shaking his head in commiseration. “Now that Ned suspects me, I am going to have to find some way to ensure any future sabotage cannot be traced back to me.” </span>
</p><p>~<br/><br/></p><p>
  <span>Rudolph was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rudolph, his pride and joy. The prize of his herd...gone. No longer did his brilliant red nose shine and sparkle at the head of the sleigh, the bells slung upon his body twinkling and shimmering merrily in the brilliant winer morning sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stannis stood, pale and breathless on his front doorstep. His reindeer display, that which he loved and cherished above all else, had been desecrated. And now, the weekend to Dorne, his rightful prize for the Christmas decorating competition, had been snatched from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he mumbled, the cold and precise man shivering, lost and bewildered in his pyjamas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For so long he had coveted that title. First, Aerys Targaryen and his gaudy light displays had snatched the prize, every year. Then his </span>
  <em>
    <span>beloved</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother Robert had swooped in and taken that crown, setting up a magnificent Christmas carnival within his garden. And Stannis had waited, waited, the patient brother that he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Robert finally checked into rehab, his fabulous collection of Christmas decorations should have gone to Stannis, as the next eldest brother. But instead, Robert had entrusted Renly...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Renly!</span>
  </em>
  <span> to continue his legacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, his vulgar little brother had taken Robert’s decorations and ran with them, filling his garden with music and light, all the while beaming at Stannis from across the road, laughter in his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t laughing when Stannis filed a light and noise complaint against him, and plunged his garden into shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Renly moved that year, and took the decorations with him. Stannis’s rightful decorations. But no matter, with his foolish brothers gone, the prize would finally be his!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just had to find Rudolph.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes as his gaze rested on the house at the end of the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lannister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> ~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t me, Stannis,” Jaime said, rolling his red eyes. “I was out visiting my brother and only got back at seven this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stannis snorted. “You expect me to believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ask Ned Stark,” Jaime suggested wearily. “He tracked me down to my brother’s, followed my every step.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded at the Ford Ranger parked at the end of Jaime’s driveway, a dishevelled and beleaguered Ned Stark’s face pressed with his eyes and nose flat against the glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stannis cursed and turned on his heels, the mysterious Rudolph thief still devilishly at large. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brienne breathed out a sigh of relief as she finally watched him go, emerging from behind Jaime’s shoulder to see Stannis disappear into his house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaime turned to Brienne, his eyes sparkling despite the fatigue of his late night journey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well, Ms Tarth,” he crooned with a quirk of the eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brienne’s cheeks burned red, but she stared him down, undefiant and unrepentant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thrice I vowed vengeance for Renly,” she reminded him grimly. “And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> break a vow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone is following us!” Jaime declared, storming into the living room. Brienne looked up, frowning in confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know, Ned Stark,” she said with a shrug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not just Ned Stark,” Jaime insisted. “This is someone who is actually consequential.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Brienne closed her laptop. “Ok,” she said slowly. “First of all, do you have any proof?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Jaime began, pulling a bizarrely pinkish piece of parchment from his pocket, “This death note for one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaime thrust the letter under his wife’s nose. Brienne peered at the note, blinking at the gruesome threats scrawled over the page in red ink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Through DECEPTION and DESTRUCTION you have tWisTed the game to your <em>advantage</em>. You have PROVEN yourselves to be cuNNing and ruth<em>less</em>, and for that I RESPECT you. Therefore I give you this ONE chance. Take <em>down</em> your <span class="u">Christmas</span> decorations, switch <em>off</em> your <strong>lights</strong> and <em>remove</em> yourself from this competition. FAIL to do so, and your bodies will be STUFFED and <strong><em>displayed</em></strong> in our own front garden next year, as a WARNING to all who would stand between us and <span class="u"><strong>victory</strong></span>.” Brienne sat back into her seat.. “Well, that seems clear. Someone</span> <span>is following us, and I have a pretty good idea who.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaime held the parchment close to his face, giving it an inquisitive sniff as though attempting to pick up the scent of his adversary. The letter smelled oddly sweet, in a sickly way that curdled his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Roose Bolton’s son, Ramsay,” Brienne said simply. “Who else would threaten to stuff our bodies, but the local taxidermist? Oh, and Jaime,” she added quickly, “You had better wash your hands. I’m pretty sure that’s dried skin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brienne’s hunch proved true. A police raid in the Bolton homestead found evidence of crimes too grisly and gruesome for a light-hearted Christmas tale, and with widespread relief, but little surprise, the townsfolk of Wintertown watched as the Bolton boy was dragged away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad to see him gone,” Catelyn told her husband. “There was always something untrustworthy about that boy, and his family. Well, except Walda,” she admitted. “She always brings something special to the WI’s potluck, even if her chilly is a bit weird tasting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I agree,” Ned murmured, before casting a dismayed look at Jaime Lannister, standing just across the road, proud and loathsome and godlike. His display truly was an extravaganza of Christmas. Fir trees, green and fragrant and strung with twinkling lights lined his driveway. A gold and crimson sleigh stood bright and bold against the grey winter sky, animatronic reindeers grazing on the roof as the bells strung across their necks tinkled and twinkled. A cozy cottage had been erected to Lannister’s left, depicting a family of polar bears dressed in scarves and woolly hats, snug inside their Christmas cavern.  To Lannister’s right, there was a miniature ice rink, big enough for a single skater to glide and glissade across the ice. Lights and music and the smell of freshly made cookies wafted across the street, stirring Ned’s heart with memories of the sparkling frosted Christmases of his childhood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ned sighed. “I’m glad the boy is gone, I just wish Ramsay could have taken Lannister down with him first.” </span>
</p>
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